


I Can Tell You

by ThisShallNeverBeMentioned



Series: Trusting Things Beyond Mistake [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisShallNeverBeMentioned/pseuds/ThisShallNeverBeMentioned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are so many things that are left unsaid, joked around but never really touched upon. Just a small step outside of the ordinary is all it takes for the barriers to break down. And it takes extraordinary circumstances to bring people together.</p><p>A Roosterteeth camping trip. What could be better?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

The sky outside was still dark when Michael’s phone went off. While the theme song from Left 4 Dead had seemed like a good idea when he first set it as a ring tone, it somehow lost it’s charm at-  _three-twenty in the morning?!_  He growled at the blinking red numbers of his radio alarm clock and stretched an arm out of the warmth of his sheets to grab his phone, half-heartedly glancing at the caller ID - just a blur without glasses and sleep-bleary eyes - before hitting the answer button.

There were many things he would have liked to say to his rude early awakener, mostly profanities, a couple sarcastic, and more than half preferably shouted, but out of consideration for his neighbours and the fact that it could only be an emergency at this hour, all that came out was a muffled, “H’lo?”

“ _Michael!_ ”

And just like that, he hit end call, cutting off that voice that haunted him day and night - and apparently in god-awful hours before dawn - and the ridiculous accent that always managed to butcher his name.

Luckily, it didn’t take him long to fall back to sleep.

Unluckily, it was short-lived.

_Knock knock._

Fuck off, Michael thought into his pillow, gritting his teeth as he rolled out of bed and hissing when his feet hit the cold floorboards. Small mercy that the living room was carpeted as he padded his way across it, navigating between the couch and the TV and, despite the darkness, avoiding stepping on any games sprawled on the floor.

_Knock knock knock-_

Michael unlocked the door and wrenched it open, slightly surprised to see Geoff standing on the other side, hand still raised to knock, beside the incredibly lively Brit who was grinning at him.

“Morning, Michael.” Gavin said brightly. He was in shorts and his tower-of-pimps T-shirt and looked altogether too well groomed and awake for the hour of the day. He had to resist the urge to shove a hand in Gavin’s face and mess up his grin and perpetually windswept hair.

At least Geoff had the decency to look tired and apologetic.

“Hey buddy, sorry about the wake up call, only we’ve got to get a move on if we want to get there before midday.” Geoff turned to Gavin, who was bouncing infuriatingly on the soles of his feet. “Help him get his stuff together and then get your butts down the car, alright? I’ll get some snacks and coffee.”

Michael just watched, wondering idly if he was still asleep and this was all some strange dream, as Geoff disappeared back into the lift outside his apartment and Gavin invited himself in.

“Here, I’ll make you a coffee and you go get dressed.” He said, smile on his face as he flicked on the lights and strode over to the kitchen. “I hope you packed light.”

Michael let the front door swing almost closed again, blinking at the sudden brightness.

“We only really need the essentials, Jack and Burnie are bringing all the big stuff later today, so you just need clothes and shoes and swimmers.” Gavin straightened up from behind the fridge door, milk carton in hand and gave him a look when he saw Michael hadn’t moved. “Come  _on_ , Michael, we haven’t got all day.”

There were conflicting urges firing in Michael’s brain as he stood there watching Gavin busy himself with the Latte maker; he wanted to yell at the Brit for waking him up for God knows what reason, he wanted to tackle him and try and wipe that dumb smile off his face, and he wanted to just fall asleep where he stood.

His feet made the decision for him, carrying him back to his bedroom where he fell down onto the mattress, struggling to get under the covers before he gave up and just closed his eyes.

But once again, the English devil whose shoes matched his just wouldn’t let him sleep.

It felt like only thirty seconds later when Gavin stomped into his room and grabbed at an ankle to try and drag him off his bed.

“You haven’t even packed, you donut!” He laughed and ghosted his fingers over Michael’s feet, eliciting a jerk back reaction and a muffled growl. “Coffee’s on the bedside table.”

Gavin let go of his foot and then there was a steady sound of scuffling and the occasional thump, and Michael reluctantly opened his eyes.

 

Gavin was rooting through his cupboards and drawers and pulling out various T-shirts and jeans, shorts and underwear and socks and a couple of hoodies, and stuffing them into a backpack.

“Where are your shoes?” he asked, vanishing around the corner of his bedroom door and returning stuffing Michael’s toothbrush into one of the pockets of the bag.

“…under the bed.” He replied, pushing himself up into a sitting position and surrendering any idea of sleep for the moment in return for the mug of hot coffee that he raised to his lips. Gavin had made it too hot and it scorched his tongue slightly, leaving him with a strangely muted taste as he sipped the rest.

Gavin scrabbled below his bed and pulled out the achievement green sneakers with a triumphant grin, left them at the foot of Michael’s bed and chucked a pair of jeans and a T-shirt at him.

“Come on, come on, Geoff’ll be back soon, get dressed!” Gavin crowed and Michael threw his pillow at him.

“Get out and I will, prick.”

Gavin threw the pillow back at him, poked his tongue out and skipped out of the room with the already full backpack.

Michael shed his pyjamas and pulled on the clothes Gavin had picked for him, followed by his shoes, working on autopilot as he shoved his wallet, keys and phone into his pockets, and then going in search of his deodorant. A bang and a yelp made him stop and he rushed through to the living room in time to see Gavin hop around on one foot, clutching his shin and letting out a stream of nonsensical words. From the grumblings Michael gathered that he had run into the coffee table. There was an exasperated chuckle from the front door and Michael looked up to see Geoff holding a tray of take away coffee in one hand.

“Jesus, dude, you’re a danger to yourself.” He said fondly. “So you ready to go?” He looked over at Michael with an eyebrow raised.

“He wasn’t even packed!” Gavin cut in, finally stopping his mad hopping and retrieving Michael’s backpack from the couch.

“Aw, did you pack Mikey’s lunch for him too?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael gritted out, the effect ruined by as he stifled a yawn.

Geoff chuckled. “Alright idiots, into the car. Gavin, you’re driving first since you’ve got the most energy to burn.”

“Wait, wait…” Michael rubbed his eyes. “ _Where_  are we going?”

The two exchanged a look and Geoff replied, “Office holiday, remember? You said you wanted to get a lift with us.”

He opened his mouth to reply, mind racing and desperately trying to wake up and remember something, anything. Holiday… that rang a bell. One of Burnie’s ideas, a campground, long weekend.

“Right.” It clicked in his brain, and Gavin grinned happily at him.

“You’re so slow in the morning.” He cooed, and Michael flicked his ear. Geoff began hustling them out, checking his watch.

“Time’s ticking, get a move on.”

Michael managed to grab his headphones before they left, locking up his apartment and allowing himself to be sleepily bustled into the backseat of Geoff’s car. The foot space was covered with six-packs and various blankets, and Michael stole one, stretching out along the backseat with his backpack under his head and music from his iPod in his ears, drowning out Geoff and Gavin chatting in the front seats. He watched the streetlights slip by and the stars beyond stay in place against the inky sky through the window, and drifted off once more.

 

\---

 

It was properly light when the rumbling of the car switched off and Geoff’s hand was shaking him awake. They’d stopped to refuel and change driving shifts. And get some real breakfast. Michael’s stomach growled as they stepped into the roadside diner, rubbing the last remnants of sleep out of his eyes. He caught a brief glimpse of himself in the window and wished he had his beanie to cover the haystack that was his hair. Gavin was already at the counter, ordering three plates of waffles for himself and coffee for them all, grinning at Michael and asking him if he was hungry.

“No shit, Sherlock.” He grumbled back. “Not like I was woken up and kidnapped at three in the goddamn morning to sit in a car for hours.”

“Actually, you were  _lying_  in the car for hours.” Gavin shot back. “Snoring away like a bear.”

“This bear is gonna eat  _you_  if you don’t order him some food.”

“Guys, no flirting before breakfast.” Geoff interrupted, shoving Gavin off to find a table. “And definitely no eating each other while I’m in earshot.”

“Gross!” Gavin snickered.

Michael rolled his eyes and ordered himself breakfast.

They sat down at a table by the window, away from the other sleepy patrons, and Geoff informed Michael that Griffin and Millie would be driving Gavin’s car down in the afternoon, along with more supplies. They’re food arrived, the waitress barely batting an eyelid as Gavin claimed his three plates of syrup and icecream covered waffles. She returned a minute later with their coffees and the remaining meals.

“Thanks. So why didn’t  _we_  drive down this afternoon?” Michael asked, inhaling the smell of his scrambled eggs.

“Gavin.” Geoff said around a mouthful of bacon and toast. “Why’d you think?”

“Whfmf?”

  
 

The Brit’s mouth was so stuffed his cheeks were bulging out like a chipmunk’s. Michael attempted to poke his cheek but was fended off by a fork.

“He couldn’t bear the idea that Burnie and Jack were going to be there before him.” Geoff explained, looking between the two of them tiredly. “Besides, if I’d let him go alone he’d probably have gotten lost.” He shrugged.

“Ahfannimeckahblefenforvereckshun.”

“What about an erection?” Geoff smirked and Gavin frowned, desperately trying to swallow his mouthful.

“I said: I have an impeccable sense of direction.” He finally choked out, and then immediately went back to stuffing his face.

“Please, you get lost in Wallmart if I don’t keep an eye on you.” Geoff scoffed. “Michael, be thankful you’ve never been shopping with this moron.”

“Srkahnofb!”

 

\---

 

Geoff estimated another two to three hours driving as he slid into the driver’s seat, putting them to arrive at the campground at around eleven o’clock. At Geoff’s insistence, they’d picked up some ice at the service station and transferred most of the six-packs into a cooler Geoff produced from the boot of the car. However, he was adamant that the cooler and beers ride shotgun to, as he put it, “keep you pricks from getting wasted without me”.

So Gavin was banished to share the back seat with Michael. And though Michael was now fully awake, Gavin’s body clock was finally catching up with him.

“At least cover your mouth,” Michael grumbled as Gavin yawned widely for the fifth time in as many minutes. “I don’t need to see the back of your throat every goddamn time I look over.”

“I’m just t-tire-” he yawned. “-tired.”

“Well it’s your own fault for getting us up at the crack of dawn!”

“Are you  _ever_  going to let that go?”

Geoff called over his shoulder. “Just stop complaining and take a nap. No point you falling asleep on your feet the minute we get there.”

Gavin sighed and shifted in his seat, trying and failing to get comfortable. He squirmed around for a minute, then unbuckled his seatbelt and turned sideways, half leaning and half lying against Michael’s shoulder.

“Get off.” Michael pushed him upright again.

“ _You_  got to lie down to sleep.”

“So? My privilege for not being a prick.”

“ _Michael_ …”

“ _Mi-coowl_.” Geoff mimicked. “Just go to sleep, Gavin.”

He turned the radio up slightly, mid morning eighties songs filling the car, an unspoken order for them to shut up. Gavin pulled a face at Michael, nose scrunched up and bottom lip stuck out with a fake tremble until Michael rolled his eyes and gave a non-committal nod and shrug. Gavin gleefully flopped down, head on Michael’s lap and knees up against the car door as he tugged a blanket over himself. He gave Michael a smug upside-down grin and closed his eyes, then yelped slightly when he received a flick on the ear. Michael’s hands had very little space left to go, so while one rested by the window, the other fell to Gavin’s chest. His hand moved up and down in time with Gavin’s breathing, slowing as he fell into a mercifully quiet sleep.

Geoff and Michael talked softly for a while, exchanging a few ideas for upcoming Let’s Plays and critiquing one of the latest Marvel film adaptations. Gavin turned on his side after half an hour of falling asleep, curling up and grasping Michael’s hand on his chest.

Even though he had caught up on his sleep, Michael managed to fall asleep once more, head rested against the side of the car and his spare hand falling to Gavin’s hair.

 

\---

 

He startled awake when the car went off-road. Geoff was singing along to the radio at the top of his voice, occasionally going falsetto to follow the female singer. Outside, trees were whizzing past and there was a trail of dust stirred up in the wake of the car.

Michael stretched in what space he had, running his hands through his hair, absently picking at knots, and looked down. Gavin’s arms were wrapped around his midsection, and he was twisted so that he lay half on his side and half on his back, feet against the door, and his head disturbingly close to Michael’s crotch. He poked the Brit in the ribs and he woke up with a shriek that had Michael laughing and Geoff swearing when Gavin accidentally kicked the back of his seat.

After a couple of minutes the dirt road turned into a parking lot, behind which lay a wide stretch of green and several wooden buildings. The largest one looked like it had been recently renovated with metal additions and a large corrugated iron roof arching up behind the front part of it, similar to a gymnasium. There were no other cars in the lot; Geoff parked and they got out, stretching, Gavin almost toppling over as he leant backwards to crack his back.

 

Giant trees surrounded the green expanse of the park and several paths led out into the forest, wooden signs with directions at each entrance. Compared to the almost golf course kept turf and cement footpaths that cut across it, the forest paths looked wild. There were a couple of barbeque areas on the edge of the forest.

After ten minutes at the registration desk inside the foremost building, mainly spent by the lady looking up their names and double-checking them against her booking list, they were given a car pass to make sure Geoff’s car wasn’t towed away overnight, and two sets of keys.

“We recommend you lock the cabin when not occupying it.” The registrar said, handing them a map of the park. “There’s never been a theft here, but we don’t want to test it, do we?”

“No, ma’am.” Geoff replied with a smile.

“The bronze keys are to the main cabin door, and the coloured ones are to your rooms. The refectory is at the back of this building and there are freezers and storage cupboards along with all the kitchen facilities. Just make sure you label your food. Have a nice stay.”

 

\---

 

“I think Gus said there’re three beds per room,” Geoff explained, unlocking the cabin door. It was bigger than expected, on stilts with stairs leading up to the veranda, and the door opened to a fairly wide hall that curved around and had several doors leading off it. “And three rooms to a cabin, plus the bathroom.”

Geoff stuck his coloured key into the nearest door, opening it to reveal a room with three made beds and an old wooden trunk at the base of each.

“Woah, this is some Harry Potter shit here.” Geoff said, dumping his bag on a bed. “Well, I claim this room for the Ramsey family, minus one annoying British kid.”

“Thanks a bunch, Geoff.”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

“Come on, Michael,” Gavin tugged on his sleeve. “Team Lads room!”

“Who’s got the third room in this cabin?” Michael asked Geoff before he got pulled away.

“I dunno, dude, Gus made all the arrangements.” He shrugged. “Anyway, see you guys later, I’m off to rescue my beers and check out the kitchen.”

He waved idly at them and Gavin tugged Michael’s sleeve again, taking them down the hallway where Gavin tried their key in both remaining doors, opening the one at the far end. The room layout was much the same as the one Geoff had chosen. Gavin raced into the room and jumped onto the bed under the window, peering out. He turned around with a grin.

“This is absolutely top!” He announced, bouncing a little.

“Tippy-top.” Michael agreed, rolling his eyes and putting his backpack down on one of the other beds. “You’re getting dirt on your bed, idiot.”

Gavin stopped bouncing abruptly, looking down in surprise at his shoes. He opened his mouth to say something but a voice from behind Michael made him look up.

“You guys’re getting dirty in bed without me? I’m hurt.”

“Ray!”

Gavin practically launched himself across the room, collecting Michael along the way to pull the two of them in for a hug.

“Team Lads together again!”

“Dude, I saw you both like yesterday.” Ray laughed.

“When’d you get here?” Michael asked, poking Gavin in the ribs to get him to let go.

“Literally two minutes ago. Joel drives like a fucking maniac, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“What? What time did you leave?”

“Michael, just let it go!” Gavin chuckled.

Ray raised an eyebrow. “Six this morning, he picked me up.”

“Yeah? Cause  _this moron_  got Geoff and me up at  _three_.”

Ray just laughed as Michael wrestled Gavin into a headlock.

 

\---

 

A bruised shin and one upturned bag later, they found Geoff and Joel sitting just outside the kitchen, beers in hand and cooler at their feet.

“Heyyy.” Joel greeted them, raising his drink.

“J-roll.” Gavin grinned back and promptly stole the beer bottle from his grip.

Rolling his eyes, Michael sat down and reached for the cooler, grabbing a drink of his own.

“Got any soft drink in there?”

Joel laughed. “Sorry, Ray, it’s beer or whiskey.”

“Hey. Nobody touches my whiskey.” Geoff growled.

Ray just shrugged and took a seat, watching as Joel retrieved another beer. “So what about lunch?”

There was a short silence as Geoff threw a tired look at Joel and Joel in turn stared intently at his hands opening his beer.

“We were just talking about that.” Geoff said. “Turns out  _somebody_  forgot that there wasn’t a McDonalds just up the road.”

Joel shrugged defensively. “Hey, Burnie said he’d have it covered.”

“Burnie also said he wasn’t coming till this afternoon. What’d you think we were gonna forage for food while waiting?”

Michael and Ray exchanged glances and Michael reluctantly lowered his beer, nudging Gavin with his foot.

“ _Is_  there anywhere nearby we can order takeaway?” he asked. “Pizza or something?”

Geoff made a noncommittal sound and took a swig, but Gavin pulled out his phone and tapped his fingers over it a few times, tongue between his teeth, finally letting out a triumphant cry.

“There’s a pizza place, don’t know if they deliver, we’d have to ring and ask, and there’s a café.” He announced. “It’s about half an hours drive.”

They all exchanged looks and Geoff shrugged. “I’m good for pizza if they deliver. If not, Ray, you’re the only one who’s sober and therefore the only one qualified to drive to get us food.”

“You know I don’t have a licence, right?”

“Take one for the team buddy.”

After a brief debate, Geoff ended up phoning the number Gavin read out from their website, and it turned out the store was not as backwater as they had suspected, and regularly delivered to the park. So they ordered three pizzas and Ray encouraged Michael and Gavin to go explore with him while they waited. Geoff and Joel could not be budged from beside the cooler.

“Call us when the food’s here!” Ray yelled back as they wandered away towards the forest path entrance. Joel waved.

“So which way should we go?” He asked as they approached the wooden signs. They were carved, the paint chipping away across certain letters, but they were still legible. One proclaimed the route to a nearby mountain for hikers, another some nature walk, and a few specifically named after botanists. There was one that caught all their eyes, though.

“Horseshoe Lake.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Thick green enveloped each side of the path, dappled light pouring down and piercing the sudden darkness that the high canopy created. Moss and ferns clustered around the trunks of trees, some of them thick enough that a single person couldn’t put their arms around, and vines hung between branches. No sound of traffic, or other people, just a rustling and creaking and the dull buzz of cicadas. It was almost disquieting, especially for Michael and Ray, both having grown up in largely populated and noisy cities. Only Gavin seemed at ease amongst the trees.

As they walked, Gavin compared out loud the differences between the forests in America and England. Mainly, the difference was the weather, but at this time of year, when everything had been hit by recent rainfall and cooled down, it was easy to believe they could be in another country.

They could be in Minecraft, sans the pixels.

Michael mentioned this, and regretted it almost instantly when Gavin proceeded to mime punching trees, laughing at the New Jersey boy and suggesting they try to build a tower of pimps. Ray wasn’t any better, pulling off some weird not-quite-karate move across the path, aimed at invisible skeletons. The attitude and humor was contagious, and Michael couldn’t help himself, getting in on the game, and soon they were all running along the forest path play-fighting, Ray screaming “Endermen” whenever they passed an old blackened tree stump. That set them off laughing again.

The path widened and split off, and they veered to the left, following the directions of the wooden sign till they were led out onto an expanse of gravelly sand. The trees gave way, and the high sun blinded them, reflecting off the body of water lying before them. It was deep blue, clear and wide, stretching out and away around the forest edge, small hilly mountains in the distance.

“Woah.” Michael breathed.

Gavin raced forward with a laugh, skidding to a stop at the water’s edge, staring out at the landscape. “This. Is.  _Incredible_!”

Ray chuckled as he and Michael walked forward into the sunshine a bit. “Yeah, it’s something alright.”

It really was. Something about the warm sun, not blindingly hot like it usually was in Texas, and the cool breeze that reached them from across the lake, sending ripples along the surface in it’s wake, made the whole thing seem surreal. Peaceful.

That thought was stifled quickly when Michael caught sight of Gavin’s face, however. He was stalking back up the beach, and the grin he was giving them was the pure embodiment of evil.

“- we need now is a jet ski.” Ray was saying, temporarily unaware of the danger and of Michael backing away beside him. Once he took note of the situation, all he had time for was to mutter, “Oh shit.”

Gavin sprang with a speed that was unsurprising to those who had to deal with his pranks at the office, pushing at Ray, grinning manically as the two struggled for a second. Then Gavin got his foot under Ray’s and sent him toppling into the shallow water at the lake’s edge.

“Noooo! My phone!”

The Brit was laughing his head off, watching as Ray struggled to his feet and shook water off his phone, pain evident on his face. He exchanged a quick look with Michael, who was trying not to laugh, and tossed his phone to him. Michael caught it deftly, drying it with his T-shirt. A second later, Gavin was tackled off his feet to come crashing down with a splash into the water.

“ _Revenge_!”

Gavin spluttered, hair plastered to his face, and shook his head, sending water flying. “Ray! Why?”

Michael held his stomach, Ray’s phone in hand, recording the chaos, and laughing in quick bursts at the two of them in the shallows, who were now turning to look at him.

 

Really, he should have seen it coming.

Hands grabbed him, holding his arms at bay, and another set of arms grabbed him around the waist, hoisting him off his feet. Thoughtfully, both his and Ray’s phone, along with his wallet, were removed in the struggle before he was launched, swearing, into the water. His curses were drowned out - somehow he managed not to breath in any water – and hands grabbed him again, dunking him under and only letting up when he was fully submerged and completely drenched.

He struggled to his feet, socks and shoes squelching horribly, and gasped at the air, rubbing water out of his eyes. Gavin and Ray came into focus a few feet away from him, high fiving each other.

“Nice one, X-Ray!”

“Thanks, Vav.”

Michael was torn between laughter and rage and something halfway between a huge grin and a snarl made it’s way onto his face. He didn’t waste a second in exacting his own revenge.

“ _Michael_!” Gavin yelped as he was tackled into the water once more. Their legs tangled, grappling and grabbing at wet clothing for some kind of purchase, and Michael ended up twice as drenched but it was worth it for the look on Gavin’s face. They were regressing into childhood as Ray started splashing them and they gave up any idea of getting out of the water, at least until Ray’s phone started ringing and he stumbled out of the lake to answer it. Michael and Gavin were still fighting to keep each other underwater while Joel informed him that their pizzas had arrived.

 

\---

 

When they trudge out of the forest and onto the green of the park, still dripping lake water, they are greeted by laughter and incredulous looks. Joel indicates the pizza boxes as Ray drops down onto a seat beside him, and Geoff ruffles Gavin’s hair, causing it to stick out in all directions as it dries. Michael kicks off his shoes, pizza between his teeth, and pulls off his wet socks with a grimace, the warm wind drying his feet.

It’s fantastic, drying in the sun, chatting with his friends, eating pizza and sipping from a can of coke that came with the pizza delivery. Ray stands at one point, slowly turning to attempt to dry his clothes evenly, and then pulls faces and poses when Joel whistles at him.

When he’d helped devour one of the pizzas, and was dry apart from the backs of his jeans and shirt, Michael stood, hooking his shoes on his fingers.

“Well, I’m gonna go put on something that doesn’t smell like lake water.” He stated, snapping a little salute in Geoff’s direction.

“Good thinking, take Gavin with you.” Came the reply.

Gavin scrunched up his face at Geoff, not moving from his spot, and Michael just rolled his eyes and started towards the cabin. It’d been a while since he’d walked barefoot like this, the grass soft under his feet. He could hear a small argument behind him, and grinned to himself when Gavin made a high-pitched whining sound and there was the distinct sound of Geoff whacking him over the head to Ray and Joel’s laughter.

Michael took the liberty of a quick shower, inspecting the reasonably sized bathroom in the cabin. Luckily it seemed to be one of the more recently renovated parts of the building, and the water pressure was pretty good, though the temperature continued to creep hotter over time, meaning he had to turn the cold water tap every minute or so. Freshly showered, and in clean jeans and a T-shirt, he hung his still damp lake clothes over a towel rack and went back to his room to dump his bag.

He was about to leave when Ray, Gavin and Joel appeared in the doorway.

Gavin was the first to speak, bright grin on his face. “Griffon and Millie just got here. And I think Burnie’s turned up too.”

He bounded into the room, rummaging through the bag on his bed.

“They’re gonna start the barbeque soon.” Ray added, and Michael glanced at his watch. Well, what d’ya know, it was three in the afternoon already.

“I’ll see you guys there in a bit,” Joel said, peering round the doorway. “I’ve just got to grab some stuff from my room.”

“Oh yeah, Joel,” Ray turned to the taller man. “Who’re you bunking with?”

“No…one?”

“What? You mean you’ve got the whole room to yourself?” Gavin asked incredulously.

Joel shrugged in ascent.

“Huh.” Ray looked thoughtful for a second. Gavin finished retrieving some fresh clothes and a towel and squeezed back out into the hallway, making for the bathroom. “So can I crash in your room if Gavin and Michael start fucking each other tonight?”

“ _Ray_!”

It was hard to tell who was laughing harder at Gavin’s outburst, Michael or Joel. The latter’s shoulders shook with laughter, eyes crinkled, and he disappeared into the room at the end of the hall, still chuckling. Gavin glared at them, but there was an amused look in his eyes when he closed the bathroom door. Michael punched Ray lightly on the arm.

“You gonna get changed too?”

Ray spread his arms wide. “Nah, I’m completely sun-dried. Sun-dried Puerto Rican, $5.99 at your local supermarket. One hundred percent organic.”

Michael laughed, and pulled the cabin door shut. He’d left one of the coloured keys to their room on Gavin’s bed so he could lock up - assuming he didn’t lose it - and handed the other to Ray.

“Besides,” he continued. “Knowing how our parties go, there’s no point in changing just to get covered in smoke and have people spill drinks on you.”

“I’ve never spilt my drink on you.”

“Not you, but one time Barbara was drinking some weird blue cocktail while dancing – always dangerous - and I just happened to walk by and…” he sighed. “I’ll miss you, Rhino shirt.”

“There’s a Rhino shirt too?”

“Was.”

 

\---

 

Burnie has assumed his position as king of the barbeque. There’s food piled around him at the outdoor cooking area, covering the benches with sausages, bacon, potatoes wrapped in alfoil, bread buns and baguettes, a large bowl full of salad, and various condiments and hunks of cheese. Multiple coolers sit on the ground beside him, packed with other ingredients and a large variety of alcoholic beverages. Someone – maybe Burnie himself – has supplied him with an apron that read ‘Kiss the Cook (or die)’.

Ryan, ever helpful, quietly hands out food on plastic plates, and people are gathered around, chatting and eating and drinking. Michael and Ray grab some food and tuck in. Burnie’s an excellent cook, so it’s pretty much gormet and by the time they go back for seconds, Gavin’s reappeared, looking surprisingly well groomed. It doesn’t last as Geoff ruffles his hair when he goes past.

The sun is just about to dip below the trees, casting a golden light over the park when Joel shows up. With two swords.

“Dude.” Ray is starstruck, and by his side in a minute, holding out a hand which Joel obligingly places one of the swords into. He swings it back and forth with both hands around the hilt, and manages to look pretty badass until Joel takes a step away from him, twirling the other long sword in one hand and holding it out towards Ray. The blades just touch, and they’re glinting in the afternoon sun.

“Where’d you get swords?” Gavin asks, wide eyed.

Joel lowered his sword from Ray’s and straightened up. “A friend of mine makes custom swords, mainly for stage productions. He gave me a discount, but they still cost a couple hundred.”

“And you know how to use them?” Michael rejoined, going to inspect the one Ray was holding. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Cool? It’s amazing!” Ray exclaims. He hands his sword to Michael and then snags Joel’s, striking a pose. “En guarde!”

They laugh and take a few swipes at each other, the clanging of the swords ringing out. It’s heavier than Michael expected, especially to hold one handed, but there’s something primal and automatic about the movements. He’s channeling Mogar or something right now.

Soon, Joel takes a sword back, and he shows Ray how to stand and the proper positions of defense. He demonstrates, showing how to interpret your opponent’s actions and move so the blow lands on the flat side of the blade, with the least possible danger to yourself. Joel can sometimes look a little unsure of himself, being taller than most, constantly paranoid, and absolutely perplexed by technology. But now, with a couple of feet of silver metal in his hand, well, he looks at home.

Ray’s certainly staring more at Joel than at his own sword, having to repeat the lessons a couple of times, but it sinks in quickly, and Ray’s quick reflexes mean that he and Joel are acting out a small duel within five minutes. They finish back to back, swords crossed at the side, and there’s a small smattering of applause from those who chose to watch them.

The swords go around, just about everyone taking the chance to act as one of the endless list of sword-wielding characters. Even Millie takes a turn; Geoff has to hold his hands over hers for her to even lift the sword, but she giggles happily as they swing and Gavin collapses at her feet, the other sword held loosely by his side and his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Someone nearby mentions marshmallows and Millie’s eyes light up, so Geoff hands the sword to Michael and takes his daughter over to the camp fire that’s been recently lit.

Gavin cracks an eye open, and smiles with his tongue between his teeth when he sees Michael standing over him, sword pointed down to his chest.

“Do you think you got what it takes to fight Mogar, bitch?” Michael asks cheekily. Gavin rolls away and leaps to his feet, setting them a few feet apart, and drops into a stance.

“Bring it.”

Bring it Michael does. He’s played enough video games, he’s watched enough movies, he watched how Joel played against Ray before. Heck, he’s even held a sword before at a con. And a lot of it is instinct, all those things rolled into one as he lunges, swinging the sword. Gavin blocks the blow awkwardly, but then seems to find his feet, pushing Michael back with his weight and taking his own shot. He’s a lot more fancy, adding more flourishes than he probably needs, but it does make it hard for Michael to get a clean swing in, so maybe that’s his strategy.

They’re fairly equally matched, Gavin in swiftness and spontanaeity, Michael in strength and precision.

Gavin spins, the sword following around, and it forces Michael to jump to the side, holding the flat of the sword in one hand to add extra stability to the block. It works to his advantage, he’s closer to Gavin now, and able to aim a surprise swing at his legs, which Gavin only just manages to jump. He stumbles away, sword held to the side, and Michael brings his over his head, taking the moment of his unpreparedness to put more force into the gesture. Gavin has no time to block, his arm twitches but he doesn’t move it, closes his eyes instead in a flinch.

Michael stops the sword right over his head. He grins, about to call his victory-

When Gavin abruptly drops, flashes forward, hand pushing away his arm and then he’s standing face to face with Michael, a few inches between them, and his sword tip at Michael’s heart.

 

Ray lets out a loud whoop which breaks their eye contact, and Gavin takes a step back, grinning widely as their friends applaud. Joel comes up to take the swords back, saying something about how they should definitely include sword-fighting in one of the new RT Shorts.

Michael is just watching Gavin, shaking his fists over his head in victory. He turns to look at Michael and throws an arm around his shoulders, laughing at how he should get the tower of pimps on his desk for his win.

He calls him an idiot, calls it luck, can’t take his eyes from Gavin’s exulted face.

Silently agrees.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

It was past midnight, hours after Millie had been taken off to bed by Geoff and Griffon – they were all staggering for different reasons – and the party had thinned substantionally, people disappearing to their cabins or huddled in groups talking, when the marshmallows came out again.

“How many packets did you buy?” Jack asked incredulously, peering into one of the coolers that wasn’t packed with booze.

Burnie fixed him with a look, light from the campfire glinting off his glasses. “ _All of them_.” He chuckled. “Seriously, Gavin and Millie could devour three packets between them, I wasn’t going to be caught out short.”

“This coming from a man who’ll practically rummage through reject shops for Christmas presents-” Gus started.           

“That was  _one_  time.”

“-yet spend money on a dozen packets of marshmallows?”

“Got his priorities right, then.” A voice whispered in Michael’s ear, and he spun his head around to see Gavin leaning over him. He climbed over the side of the log Michael was sitting on, flopping down beside him. Grasped in one hand was a bottle, and in the other, a plastic bag.

When Gavin saw Michael looking at it curiously, his smile widened, and he promptly upturned the bag, pulling out two packets of biscuits and several blocks of chocolate.

“Gentlemen.” He announced, clearing his throat as he held up the goods.

Gus quickly took control, dishing out the appropriate number of graham crackers and breaking the chocolate into slabs that followed on napkins. The packet of marshmallows went around and soon there were bright spots lit up in the fire where the lumps of pure sugar were held, speared onto long sticks.

Burnie had his own method.

“To perfectly toast marshmallows, you need the proper equipment.” He stated, reaching behind him and bringing forward a small silver object. He held up his marshmallow on a stick. A jet of blue flame shot out, instantly lighting the pink sugar, browning all sides in a few seconds. The flame disappeared and Burnie held up his mini blow torch to his lips, blowing the top of it like a cowboy would his gun. “Voila.”

Gavin laughed loudly and reached for the blow torch, resulting in Burnie struggling to keep him away for a minute.

“Like hell I’m giving you control of fire power, you’ll set the whole camp on fire and I’ll have to pay damages!”

They’re laughing, the infectious sound travels round their small group at the fire. Jack’s got marshmallow in his beard already and Gus is muttering calculations to figure out how much chocolate each of them can have to balance out the crackers. Gavin gives up on the blow torch and instead wisely decides to stack as many marshmallows as he can in his sugar sandwich, fingers sticky with the melting chocolate and sugar.

Sinking his teeth into his own modest smore, Michael tries not to laugh as Gavin spills half of the marshmallows into the fire, where they burn to a crisp, and Gavin lets out a whine.

“Idiot.” He mutters fondly, and Gavin turns to him, smiling with a mouthful of marshmallow.

He swallows and turns to Gus. “Hey Gus, hey,” he pauses to make sure he has Gus’s – and most of the others’ – attention on him. “Can I have  _some-more_?”

There’s a collective groan, Jack throws a graham cracker that hits him on the side of his face, and Michael laughs loudly and rapidly. He can’t help it.

“Oh my god. You absolute fucking moron.” He sniggers, nudging his knee against Gavin’s. “Do you just sit at the computer reading up on terrible fucking puns or something?”

Gavin’s grinning at him, snickering as well, and idly brings his fingers up to his mouth to lick off the remaining sticky chocolate and marshmallow. His face is half in shadow, but his eyes are shining, and there’s a trail of marshmallow on the corner of his mouth.

Then Gavin looks away, reaching for more crackers and marshmallows, and Michael shakes his head, realising he’d just been staring at his friend aimlessly for over a minute. Damn, he must be more than just a little drunk if he was zoning out.

He stood up, declining the marshmallow packet offered to him and stretching his back out.

He heard Gavin’s voice as he walked off, calling something after him, so he just raised a hand to wave back at him, not bothering to turn around.

 

\---

 

Michael wandered a little way away, standing by one of the tended trees next to the walkway, looking up. Without the artificial light of a nearby city, the sky was inky and dark, millions of pinpricks of light scattered across it. He didn’t know any constellations, but amused himself for a moment trying to connect some of the stars up into Banjo Kazooie, an Xbox controller, and a tower of pimps. He yawned widely, checking his watch; it was just past three. Twenty-four hours ago he was being woken up by Gavin and Geoff, dragging him out of his bed and into a car, on their way to where he was now…

Someone called his name and he turned. Ray was struggling towards him with a very drunk Joel draped over his shoulder. The older man had his eyes closed and a languid smile, leaning heavily on Ray.

 

“Wanna give me a hand?”

Though it was hilarious to see the comparison of the overly tall and clearly excessively drunk Joel bending over his completely sober best bro - who was struggling to keep them upright - Michael crossed to Joel’s other side and pulled his other arm around his shoulder.

Ray looked at him gratefully. “Thanks, man.”

Michael smiled in return. “Come on, Joel, bed time.” They began half-dragging him towards their cabin.

“Bed…” Joel slurred.

“That’s right.”

“Bed…Ray…”

Michael resisted the urge to laugh, unlocking the cabin door and pushing it open for them to step through. They stopped in front of Joel’s room.

“Joel,” Ray said, speaking slowly and clearly. “Where’s your key?”

“Mmmm?”

“For your room.”

Joel’s eyes flickered open; he turned his head towards Ray and squinted, trying to focus. He thought for a moment, and withdrew his arm from over Michael’s shoulder to pat at his jean pockets a few times. He shrugged, drooping again.

“Rayyyy….”

“Joel.”

“My key’s… pocket.”

Ray sighed and rearranged Joel on his shoulder, rifling through the man’s pockets and pulling out one of the coloured keys on a metal ring, which he then handed to Michael. He unlocked the door, and Ray heaved Joel inside, dumping him on one of the beds.

“Now go to sleep.”

Joel’s hand shot out and snagged Ray’s wrist. He was trying to slip his shoes off with the toe of his foot, long legs over the edge of the bed. Ray gave him a gentle shove on the shoulder and he collapsed backwards, but kept his grip on Ray’s wrist, causing him to stumble forward. He looked up at Michael helplessly.

Michael shrugged, amused.

Ray looked back down at Joel, and gently tried to prise his fingers off his wrist.

“Joel, man, let go.”

Joel let out a groan.

“I’ll be back in a minute, I’m just gonna get you some water.”

Finally Joel released him with a nod, and his hand dropped back onto his chest. Ray straightened and walked towards the door. Michael backed out, a grin on his face, and Ray gave him a look that said  _don’t say anything_. Michael just held up his hands, palms out and moved over to his own room.

Ray walked past him to the bathroom, and Michael waited till he returned with a glass of water in hand, heading back to Joel’s room.

“Have a good night, Ray.” He whispered cheekily, over exaggeratedly winking.

Ray didn’t bother replying, just shot Michael a half-amused, half-exasperated look and shut Joel’s door behind him.

 

\---

 

Michael is sure he’s only been asleep for a minute when Gavin wakes him up, staggering into the room. He’s disorientated for a minute before remembering he’s not in his apartment, he’s in a cabin on vacation, sharing a room with Ray – who isn’t back from Joel’s room – and the idiot who’s currently babbling at him, falling onto Michael’s bed. The strong smell of beer breath hits him as Gavin leans too close, whispering hotly into his face.

“Michael, m’little Michael, hey… d’you ever think about the stars when you’re in Texas? I was just outside – they’re so bright! Star bright, shine light, ahaha… they’re kinda like that in England, in the country, but s’always raining, so you can’t see ‘em cause a the clouds, Mikey…”

“Gavin.” Michael growls. “Go. To. Bed.”

Gavin giggles, yawns, “Kay.” and shuffles around, curling up next to Michael on his bed. He tugs at the blankets and throws an arm over Michael, who immediately sits up and pushes him off.

“No, Gavin,  _your_ bed.”

The Brit takes no notice of him, rolling himself up in the blankets. He hasn’t even taken his shoes off. So Michael shoves him again, and this time Gavin falls off the bed with a yelp and a thud, and the blankets go with him.

“ _For f- God’s sake, you two, stop having sex and shut up because some people are TRING TO SLEEP_!” Geoff’s voice comes through from the next room, furious, and Michael knows the only reason he censored himself was because of Millie. Though, Geoff yelling was likely going to wake her up more than the noise Gavin was making. Nevertheless, you don’t get on Geoff’s bad side when he’s tired and grumpy.

Michael glares down at Gavin, who’s looking up at him with wide eyes, trying not to laugh. He gestures angrily, pointing from Gavin to Gavin’s bed, and grabs up his bed sheets from the floor. Ever infuriating, Gavin doesn’t move from where he’s lying on the floor, just kicks his shoes off with the heel of his foot.

Michael huffs, runs a hand through his hair, and reluctantly gets out of bed. He leans down and grabs Gavin under the arms, hauling his deliberate dead weight to his own bed. He can’t manage to pull him onto the mattress, just prop him up beside it.

“C’mon Gav, work with me here.” He mutters, giving the man another tug. Gavin just grins at him, but relents. He gets his feet under him and pushes himself up, rolling onto the bed.

Michael lets out a breath of relief, whacks Gavin lightly on the arm, and goes to move away when a hand catches his wrist. Déjà vu.

“Gavin for f-”

“ _Michael_ …”

“What.”

“You’re m’boy, Michael.”

“Yeah, Gavin,” Michael sighs. “You’re my boy. Now go the fuck to sleep.”

But Gavin won’t let go. This must have been how Ray felt earlier, Michael thinks, reaching down to pry his fingers away. Gavin takes the opportunity to throw his arms and a leg around Michael, pulling him onto the bed with him. It’s like being hugged by a lanky limbed squid, except without the tentacles or the suckers, or the wet or- actually, it’s like being hugged by Gavin. There’s no comparison for the way he just clings, giggling softly under his breath.

 

Michael’s not in the mood to wrestle out of the grip, he’s too tired and with Geoff a ticking time bomb next door ready to blow if they make any more noise, well, he doesn’t have many choices.

He gives up the fight, relaxing down next to Gavin, who in return for the surrender loosens his grip. He grins at Michael, and closes his eyes, nestling his head into the pillow. Michael rolls his eyes, even though Gavin can’t see it, before closing them, letting out a deep breath.

They both fall asleep with smiles on their faces.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

  
“Morning, lovebirds.”

They woke up to Ray standing over them with coffee in one hand, and his phone held in front of him in the other. It took Michael a few seconds for his brain to make the connection between the red light blinking on the back of the phone and the grin on Ray’s face.

“Ray…” Michael grated out; his throat felt like sandpaper. “If you’re recording right now, I  _will_  murder you and order a million fucking cakes to be buried with you.”

Ray just chuckled at the threat, and handed Michael the hot mug when he sat up. “Just getting a photo for the family album. ‘Michael and Gavin’s first morning after’.”

“ _Don’t_ -”

“Chill out, I promise not to bring it out to embarrass you in front of your friends.” He pressed a few buttons and turned the screen to Michael. “Cute, though.”

It was a blur without his glasses, so Michael just took a grateful gulp of coffee, the hot liquid chasing away the aftertaste of the night before. Gavin struggled upright beside him, squinting at Ray’s phone.

“We look like a couple of passed out drunks.” He commented, looking around for something. “Where’s my coffee, Ray?”

“Wow, Gavin, next you’ll be telling me to make you a sandwich.” Ray smiled, shoving his phone back into his pocket and strolling to the door. “I couldn’t carry two coffees and my phone, so I thought you could share.” He left, whistling.

Gavin slumped on Michael’s shoulder. “Michael… can I have a sip?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

Michael stood up and Gavin fell back on the bed, looking up through his eyelashes. “Cause I’m not swapping spit with you first thing in the morning, Gavin.”

“Oh, I see how it is, you’ll sleep with me but-”

Michael interrupted him. “You were the one falling all over me and clinging like a goddamn octopus.”

Gavin huffed, his breath disturbing the mess of hair flopped over his forehead. He stretched, back arching like a cat, and then rolled himself back under the covers, mumbling something under his breath.

Before he left to take a shower, Michael placed the half empty coffee cup beside Gavin’s bed.

 

\---

 

Ray and Millie must have been the only two not hung-over in the whole camp. Everyone had similar tired rings under their eyes and was speaking softly, aware of every noise magnified. Thank you, alcohol. Yet, somehow, though he must have been one of the more extreme drinkers at the barbeque, Gavin’s headache seemed to miraculously disappear as soon as Millie started telling him that they should go swimming. Must be some weird pseudo-sibling thing, Michael thought, watching them converse over breakfast. Weird,  _freaking adorable_ , pseudo-sibling thing.

The other two Ramseys looked tired, but were also smiling at their daughter, and Geoff either didn’t remember or had forgiven Gavin for his noise last night.

On Michael’s other side at the table, Ray was smirking at Joel, who was hunched over his plate of scrambled eggs and looking incredibly dishevelled. He blinked at Ray, squinting in the sunshine, and mumbled something in reply to their conversation, which had Ray laughing and Joel smiling, but wincing at the loud noise no doubt reverberating painfully in his aching head.

There are a few faces missing, probably still trying to sleep off last night’s drinking. They’d show up eventually, though; it was past ten o’clock, and if there was one thing everyone at Roosterteeth was passionate about – barring their work – it was big lunches.

As they were cleaning up their plates, Gavin bounded over, earning a glare from Michael.

“What’s your problem?” Gavin questioned the look, curious.

“You. There’s no way you don’t have a hangover after last night. You must’ve drunk more than Geoff on the fourth of July.”

Gavin chuckled. “What? You want me to be moping around like you or Joel?”

At the sound of his name, Joel looked over, a confused look on his face. Ray waved a hand at him, “It’s okay, we’re just talking about Donut.”

Joel frowned at him, but his lips twitched up. “I’m Caboose, Ray.  _Caboose._ ”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, Donut.”

Joel shook his head, hiding a laugh and continued clearing away the breakfast. Gavin started up again.

“Lads, we’re going swimming.”

Ray quirked an eyebrow. “You’re not catching us off guard again like yesterday.”

“No, I mean proper swimming. Millie wants to see the lake, and Geoff and Griffon are coming too.”

He looked so excited that Michael couldn’t help laughing.

“You’re way too fucking chipper.” He shrugged. “Sure, why not, maybe I can try to drown you.”

“Cheers, Michael, lovely.” Gavin rolled his eyes. “Ray?”

“Yeah, I’m up for it.”

“You should ask Joel to come, too.”

“Why don’t  _you_  ask him, he’s right there.” Ray replied. “I’m not your messenger boy.”

Gavin smirked, turned and just about yelled. “ _J-roll_! Ray wants you to go swimming with him at the Lake! Clothing’s optional!” He broke off with a squeak when Ray clapped a hand over his face.

Joel was looking at them, eyebrows raised. As Burnie walked past him and muttered something to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder, Joel’s face went just a little bit red. Michael laughed under his breath and looked back at Ray and Gavin, who was still struggling to get Ray’s hand off his face. Ray grinned at Michael.

“Passive-aggressive resistance.” He stated. “Works every time.” He let go and Gavin spluttered, almost gagging, and stumbled backwards.

“Dude, don’t you ever get tired of getting your ass whupped every time you’re being a dick. I mean, you totally deserve it, but…”

Gavin looked up, hands on his knees, grinning widely.

“Worth it.” He said.

 

\---

 

Their party was subdued as they walked along the forest path, chatting softly, towels over their shoulders. They emerged into the sunshine once more, dropping their things on the beach, and the guys stripped off their T-shirts, making for the water. Gavin jumped in straight away, knees tucked up and sent up a wave of water over the others.

Michael hadn’t had much time to appreciate it yesterday, but the Lake was clear and deep blue, reflecting the sky and the tree covered hillside opposite the beach. Now, without the worry of shoes or phones getting wet, he could appreciate the slightly chilly but refreshing water and the warm sun overhead. The feel of the rocky sand, and the peaceful weightlessness of floating, half submerged, face to the sky.

He could also appreciate the people.

Griffon and Millie were by the shore, Geoff sitting in the shallows. He sent a splash of water towards Gavin as he went past, chuckling. Joel had opted to swim out towards the Lake’s centre, making a few laps of breaststroke out in the blue. Ray, like Michael, had opted simply to float.

“Man, I wish we had a pool at the office.” He said lazily. “Or, I dunno, that we could play video games in a pool without getting electrocuted.”

“Yeah, but we’d end up with pruny skin, or like Davy Jones’ pirate crew.” Michael mused. “All covered in octopuses and stingrays or something.”

“Sting-Ray.” Ray chuckled. “And Captain Jones with his heart in a box.”

“Until someone stabs me and takes my place.”

“Eh… I don’t think anyone’d stab you. You’d be a pretty good Captain.”

“Thanks, Ray. For that, you can be my first mate.”

“What about Gavin?”

Michael thought for a moment. “He can swab the poop deck.”

 

They laughed. Joel had swum back to shore and waved lazily at them as he waded past. He went up the beach to retrieve his towel, rubbing his hair dry so it stood up, and then lay down on his towel, sunglasses over his eyes.

Michael looked over at Ray, who was gazing idly toward the beach.

“So… you stayed in Joel’s room all last night?” he asked quietly.

Ray glanced at him, analysing the look on Michael’s face before answering.

“Yep.”

There was a small pause.

“How wasted was he?” Michael couldn’t help asking, recalling the staggering man and the dopey look on his face.

“Pretty drunk. He kept talking dumb shit about some theory of his, and then trailing off into snores.” Ray rolled his eyes. “Everytime I went to leave he’d wake up and start babbling.” He shrugged. “At least he didn’t throw up.”

“Didn’t look too crash hot this morning.”

“Dude, you can talk! What about you and-”

“ _Oi_!” Gavin’s voice broke their conversation and they looked round. He was seated on top of Geoff’s shoulders, the older man grasping his ankles. Griffon was grinning in the background, Millie on her shoulders.

“C’mon, you two,” Geoff called, wading through the water towards them. “Last team standing gets a week off editing duty. Show us what you got.”

Michael scoffed and gestured to Ray, who clambered up onto his shoulders. They turned to face their opponents.

“Ready?”

It was over in seconds. As soon as they called ‘Go!’ Gavin tried to lean to far forward and the sudden motion unbalanced Geoff, and all Ray had to do was grab and pull Gavin’s arm as Michael walked backwards. He went falling straight into the water. Remarkably, Geoff managed to keep his feet, despite being pulled every which way from Gavin’s struggling, and berated him when he surfaced. Michael let Ray drop with a whoop and settled for wrestling Gavin back underwater. He held his shoulders, dunking him, and felt hands fist in the fabric of his shorts and tug and then he was under too. Surfacing for air and cursing while Gavin tried to climb on top of him, giggling.

Something white and square flew by and hit them, falling into the water where it floated. Michael looked down at it in surprise and then dissolved into laughter as Gavin started gagging and tore himself away to run up the shore, and hunch over, hands on his knees, facing away from the water. Michael picked up the offending slice of now sopping wet bread, and walked out of the water.

“Michael! Please- don’t-” The Brit gagged again and turned away, hand over his mouth.

Michael just shook his head and headed for the far end of the beach, hurling the wet bread into the trees. He had to admit, as he wiped his hands on the sides of his shorts, it was a little bit gross.

“ _Bloody_ hell.”

“Y’alright, buddy?” Geoff asked, amused.

Gavin didn’t reply, just let his knees cave and collapsed forward onto the sand, hands beneath his head.

Michael looked over at Ray up on the beach – Joel was stifling a laugh behind his hand – and nodded his head to him, eyebrows raised in a silent question, and when Ray nodded with a small laugh, gave him a thumbs up. He turned back to Gavin, still face down in the sand, and knelt down beside him.

“You okay, Gavvers?” He put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.

A low groan was his answer.

 

“Goddamn.” Michael chuckled. “Fine with a sword, but sick at the idea of soggy bread.”

Gavin gagged again.

“Don’t throw up.” Michael warned.

“Won’t.” His voice was strained and shaky.

“Kinda a sucky weakness for a supposed superhero.”

“Superman’s afraid of rocks.”

Michael stared for a moment, and then burst into laughter, which only got worse when Gavin pushed himself upright with an indignant frown on his face.

“What? What’re you on about?”

He couldn’t stop laughing, was taking huge gasps of air to try to talk, but he couldn’t really explain why he was laughing so hard. It was like the damn had burst, letting out a built-up reaction to Gavin’s daily idiotic crazy logic.

“Not- fucking- scared of rocks, you  _moron_!”

Gavin shoved him and stood up, stalking back to the water to wash the sand off. Michael’s chuckles subsided as he watched him, scrubbing at his long limbs with lake water.

“We’re heading back for lunch if you idiots want to join us.” Geoff said, offering Michael a hand up with a smirk on his face.

“Sure thing, boss.” Michael grinned, taking his hand and hauling himself to his feet.

“Unless of course you two wanted some  _alone_  time or something.”

“I’d rather have some alone time with a sandwich.”

Geoff laughed, called, “Here that, Gavin? You’ve been replaced by a sandwich.”

“Trouble in paradise.”

“Shut up, Ray.”

They started walking back to the park, and Gavin ran to catch up with them, towel over his head. He fell into step beside Michael.

“Would you really trade me for a sandwich?”

Michael snorted. “Depends what type of sandwich.” Gavin looked at him expectantly, and Michael sighed. “I dunno, it’d have to be like a never-ending sandwich or something.”

Gavin looked thoughtful for a second, and pulled his towel down to wrap around his shoulders. “I’d trade you for an icecream sandwich.”

“The fuck is an icecream sandwich. Two slices of bread with icecream? Wouldn’t the bread get wet though?”

Gavin glared at him, obviously swallowing roughly at the mention of wet bread. “No, you dope, two waffles with icecream between them. And syrup on top. I’d trade you for that.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Ray pipes up, calling over his shoulder with a smirk. “What about Michael with syrup on top, Gavin?”

“What about Joel with cake frosting on top, Ray?” Gavin retorted.

Ray looked at Joel once, eyes flicking up and down, and then shrugged. “I’d risk it. Doesn’t exactly count as cake does it.”

Joel let out a spluttering noise and looked torn between correcting Ray about whether or not he counts as cake, and questioning the fact that Ray’d ‘risk it’ when it’s probably several kinds of unsanitary to be eating sugar frosting off a work colleague.

Gavin giggled and nudged his shoulder against Michael’s, smiling at him. “I wouldn’t really trade you for icecream, y’know.”

“Yeah. And I guess you can always  _buy_  me a sandwich. Win, win.”

“I’ll make you one, my little Michael.”

Michael can’t help smiling at his earnest voice. “Thanks, Gav.”

“Will you buy me icecream?”

“Not with your track record with sugar. Remember that morning I let you have donuts?”

“That was top.”

“…Yeah it was.”

 

\---

 

Someone’s brought out a radio. It must be some playlist special because it’s blasting out dance song after dance song. Barbara has got Gavin up on his feet and they’re attempting to dance some fancy step. After a few failed attempts, she ends up spinning him around, and he laughs, playing it up. Michael knows Gavin’s not that bad a dancer, but after a few evening beers, his motor skills deteriorate. He’s had the pleasure of seeing the Brit at an RTX event swaying from foot to foot, hands in the air, and topple backwards over a bench when he lifted his foot more than a few inches into the air and couldn’t keep his balance.

Now he gives up, and wanders over to the cooler, grabbing himself another beer and sits down beside Michael on the bench.

“One day your livers gonna give out, y’know.” Michael said offhandedly, watching Gavin take a large gulp.

He looked mildly surprised. “Never thought I’d hear you say something like that.” Gavin said after a pause. “Are you worried about me?”

“ _Anyone’d_  be worried about you. Honestly, the number of times you’ve pretty much had a stroke...” Michael shook his head with a sigh. “Never mind.”

“Aw, is Mikey-wikey concerned about Gavvy-wavvy?” Geoff dropped in on his way past, carrying a box.

Gavin laughed and Geoff walked on to the barbeque spot. Jack and Ryan had been the latest to get up and as such had volunteered to cook for the night. They’re keeping it simple, as most people are half-heartedly packing up to go home the next day. Geoff had already informed Gavin and Michael that he was planning on going back early in the morning with Griffon and Millie, so they’d be in charge of driving Gavin’s car back.

“If you get me up at a stupid hour tomorrow, I’ll gag you and leave you in the forest.” Michael warned.

“And what, pray tell, would be a stupid hour?” Gavin smirked.

“Oh, I dunno, Gavin,  _maybe three in the fucking morning_.”

Gavin chuckled and patted his shoulder. “It’s alright, I’ll drive the first half, I’m good in the mornings.”

“I swear there’s something really wrong with you.” Michael stood with a smile.

“Where’re you going?”

“I’m tired.” Michael replied. “I’m gonna grab some food and go to sleep if you’re so set on getting us up early.”

Gavin grabbed his arm. “I won’t! I’ll let you sleep, promise.”

He just looked down at him, at the hand on his arm, eyebrows raised. “Fine. But can I have my arm back?”

Gavin grinned and stood up, hooking his arm around Michael’s elbow. “Only if you get me some food.”

He rolled his eyes and starts walking to the barbeque, pulling the Brit along with him. “Sometimes I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Cause I’m your boy.”

“You can’t pull that card forever.”

But with the smile on Gavin’s face, and the way he lights up when Michael hands him a plate of food, and the fact that he realises he just doesn’t care when Ray wolf-whistles at their entwined arms – though Gavin does pull away after that to eat – Michael knows he could.

\---

 

He’s not entirely sure what he was dreaming, but it was enough for him to jolt awake, hands fisted in the sheets and sweat on his forehead and heart thudding and a feeling of absolute  _terror_  formed as a knot in his throat. A second later, the soft fabric of a pillow hit him in the face with gentle force, accompanied by a quiet chuckle. Michael wrenched the pillow off his face, glaring up at the wild-hair and scruffy faced Brit standing above his bed. It’s dark, and he wonders idly what time it is, how long it’s been since he went to sleep.

“Were you having a sexy dream?” Gavin whispered teasingly, eyes focusing loosely on Michael’s other hand, still in a death grip on his sheets.

“Fuck  _off,_ Gavin.” He turned over on his side, face to the wall and back hunched protectively. Annoyingly, his voice doesn’t carry the conviction he wants it too; it carries the fear left over from his dream, the tremor that accompanies his racing heartbeat.

And of course, however drunk Gavin might be, he can tell.

A low lamp was switched on, casting heavy shadows and dull yellow light over the room. The bed sunk as Gavin sat down, and Michael’s body rolled slightly towards the dip, though he stays curled in on himself. A hand alighted on his shoulder, warm, light pressure. Michael let himself be rolled over onto his back again with a sigh, looking up at Gavin, whose face was now scrunched up in a frown.

“Nightmare?” he asked, genuine concern.

Michael gave a small nod, accompanied by a shrug of his shoulders.

“D’you want to talk about it?”

He let out a short laugh. “Can’t remember it. Just…” he wasn’t sure how to describe the feeling of helplessness. He didn’t have nightmares much anymore, so when they did appear in his subconscious, it was always a bit of a shock, and more realistic than his dreams. After the amount of horror movies and gory video games he thought nothing could get such a reaction out of him, but maybe his brain was just trying extra hard to spook him as a result of his desensitisation.

Gavin was looking at him, a slight pull at the corner of his mouth, and he stood up abruptly, swaying on his feet enough for Michael to realise that he must have had more than just a few beers since he’d last seen him. Gavin crossed to his own bed, reaching under the mattress and- huh. He didn’t realise people actually hid alcohol under their sheets, at least outside of high school movies. There was a small guilty grin on Gavin’s face as he crossed back to Michael, sitting on the edge of the bed and offering him the whiskey bottle. It was half-empty.

“Snagged this from Geoff a couple of weeks ago.” He confided in a low voice. “As a joke, mind, but he never realised it was missing.” Little laugh, and he unscrewed the lid, taking a pull.

Michael sat up, smiling, and murmured “Idiot.” before taking the bottle from Gavin’s hand and swallowing a mouthful of the burning liquid. It made him cough a bit, hand over his mouth to stifle the noise, and Gavin rubbed a hand across his back, soothing but not actually doing anything to help as Michael choked lightly. He remembered the first time he snuck alcohol with his friends, back in high school, the thrill of the illegal act better than the actual taste of the drink. (It wasn’t worth his first hangover though.)

He took another swig and it went down smoother this time, easing the tension across his shoulders and chasing away the lingering dream. He passed the bottle back and leant back on his hands. When Gavin drank hard liquor, Michael noted, watching, it was very different to the little sips of beer he’d usually take. He closes his eyes before placing his lips around the bottle and tosses his whole head back, long neck exposed as he gulps. It’s a practiced action, and Gavin can drink almost twice as much as Michael in one swig. He doesn’t open his eyes again until he’s swallowed, lowered the bottle and dropped his head.

They looked at each other for a minute, gaze held comfortably, Michael still half asleep and Gavin completely buzzed, the bottle of whiskey between them. There’s such a familiarity with each other that it isn’t even weird for them to be studying each other’s faces so intently, almost like a game to see who cracks first. Showing a strange amount of fine motor skills despite the fact that he’s swaying slightly even while sitting, Gavin replaces the lid on the bottle without looking away from Michael’s face and sets it down on the floor beside the bed.

His heartbeat has only just managed to return to normal when Gavin straddles him. Just swings a leg over and sits back on Michael’s thighs, hands resting on his own, and looks at Michael. It’s the same look as before, lazy smile and loose gaze, his hair sticking up every which way. Now his face is just a little closer.

 

“Gavin, what are you doing?” he asks after a minute. Gavin’s not that heavy, but his legs are already asleep and are in danger of getting pins and needles.

The Brit just hums, leaning his forehead against Michael’s until a hand comes up to shove him away lightly.

“Don’t go to sleep on me, moron.” He chuckles.

“M’not quite sleeping…” Comes the garbled reply. Evidently Gavin’s lips aren’t cooperating with his desire to speak. Michael lets out another laugh.

Which cuts off abruptly and turns to a sharp intake of breath as Gavin’s hand moves and.

…

What.

Gavin’s palm is resting against Michael’s crotch. It’s the lightest touch, but he’s only wearing pyjama pants and there wouldn’t be much mistaking what was being felt. This wasn’t just the joking jab that they made at each other, high-pitched “ehhhhhhh” alongside to serve as a warning. Through jeans it was nothing. It was a game. Wearing next to nothing in bed with one of them straddling the other-

Michael hisses when Gavin squeezes lightly, and then starts stroking in a steady, slow rhythm. His hands are locked at his sides, déjà vu as they clench in the sheets, and he can’t move. He should have grabbed Gavin’s wrist by now, shoved him off. Instead, he’s gasping as Gavin’s fingers trace his hard length – yes, he’s hard now, no denying it, there’d be something wrong if he wasn’t – and teasingly his other hand is tracing the waistband of his pyjamas, feather light touch across his hip that shouldn’t make him shake. Impossible to know when his eyes had closed, but he opens them now, looking up to see Gavin’s staring back at him, his own eyes hooded and intense. His dick twitches, and Gavin grasps tighter through the fabric, moving his fist down and up again-

The click of the key in the lock. Michael freezes, but Gavin’s never moved so fast, silent and quick as he jumps back to his own bed, under the covers in seconds, doubly impressive considering his current inebriation. Just before the door creaks open, Michael manages to lie down on his side, head on the pillow and eyes screwed shut. He hears Ray slip his shoes off and close the door again, pad over to his bed, humming something tuneless under his breath. Michael panics slightly, thinking about the whiskey bottle still beside his bed, before remembering that it wasn’t as if it had a huge nametag reading ‘Gavin’ on it. Ray changes, clothes being stuffed into his bag, and then there’s the creak of the bed as he lies down, shuffling around into a comfortable sleeping position.

Michael thinks it’s probably unhealthy, the rate his hearts thumping at right now, too loud in his ears, and there’s still the hard problem in his pants. He resists the urge to groan in frustration, at Gavin for not finishing, at Ray for choosing that moment to enter the cabin, at Gavin for starting it in the first place…

He tries not to think about it, tries not to relive the past few minutes, the warmth, Gavin’s hand, his eyes...

He’ll never fall asleep like this.

His head’s pounding, and he resists touching himself, desperately reciting lines from a movie in his head, trying to distract himself.

He’s not freaking out.

He isn’t.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Michael woke up slowly, consciousness creeping up on him while he tried to fight it, keeping his eyes closed and stubbornly refusing to move, because as soon as he’s awake, he’s thinking.

He sat up abruptly, throwing off his blankets and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, pausing when his head spun. Fucking hangover. A glance around the room showed that Ray had left already, and Gavin was still asleep, face to the wall.

The bottle of whiskey was still beside his bed.

Michael dressed quietly, pulling on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and slipping his feet into his shoes, and pocketed his phone before exiting the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

The sun was only just over the treetops, and the sky was completely clear of clouds, endless blue. As he walked towards the refectory, he glanced at the car park, noticing that almost all of the Roosterteeth employees’ cars were gone. Michael was idly trying to match up the remaining cars to their owners when he walked into the large building.

And immediately backtracked.

Or at least he tried to, but his small hangover had killed his reflexes and he just found himself freezing with surprise at seeing his best bro seated on one of the long tables and his older co-worker between his legs, faces way too close to be anything but-

 

“Oh. Shit.” Ray broke away, hands obviously tightening on Joel’s shoulders in a warning and a slight blush on his face. Joel whipped his head around with the guiltiest look on his face, hands still planted firmly on Ray’s hips.

Ray quickly pulled out a poker face, relaxing his hold and trying to look casual. “Morning, Michael. How you doing?”

Michael bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Oh, y’know, getting breakfast. You?”

“Uh, yep, just packing up.”

“Mmhmm. Morning, Joel.” Michael crossed over to the kitchen area and flicked on the coffee machine.

“…Hi.”

“You guys going early too?”

Joel looked unlikely to speak again, eyes wide and fixed at a point on the wall, and Ray had to push him aside to get off the table. He shoved him towards the door and Joel walked out swiftly, leaving Ray to talk to Michael. “Yeah, Joel’s got some audition thing, and since he’s my ride-”

“I bet he is.” Michael chuckled, pouring a drop of milk into his coffee.

“Dude. Not cool.”

“Has the whole fucking camp gone insane?” he asked, moving to follow Ray outside. “Hallucinogenics in the drinking water or something?”

“You sound like Joel with his conspiracy theories.” There was still a faint red tinge to his cheeks. “What d’you mean ‘the whole camp’?”

Michael paused, sipping at his coffee to give him a second to think. Ray was his best bro, he could probably give him some advice – although, look what you walked in on, he thought to himself – but he didn’t really want to bring up what had happened. The foremost reason was because Ray would  _never_  shut up about it, and another small thought in his mind was simply that he wasn’t sure how to explain his state of mind anyway. He needed at least two more coffees and an hour to figure it out.

Or was he over thinking it?

He shook his head, bringing his mind back to the present. “Never mind. It’s just been a bit of a weird weekend.”

The way Ray’s looking at him it’s obvious he can tell there’s more to the story, but at least he’s always willing to wait for Michael to talk rather than bug him about it, so he doesn’t press the matter.

Michael waves them off, Ray choosing to wait till they're driving away to lean his torso out of the window and yell back that they should do a new RT Life VS with swords in the Achievement Office and Joel swearing and telling him to get his damn head back in the car before they get arrested.

Yeah, the world’s definitely gone crazy.

He finishes his coffee and contemplates the remaining food, but finds he’s not really hungry. Without any distractions, his mind is free to dredge up the thoughts he’s been trying to beat down since last night.

Gavin was drunk. Way drunk. What’s new? Gavin gets ridiculously clingy when drunk. Hence the first night at the cabin when he’d refused to sleep without Michael. When he’d clung to him, limbs wrapped around him, grinning into his pillow. Gavin also loses his sense of boundaries, his inner voice – if he has one, it must already be seriously damaged – that tells him if an idea is a good one or not.

His legs carry him subconsciously to the forest path, the deep green dappled light of the morning and the trees. Michael knows he’d overanalysing as he thinks back over the weekend. How different was any of it really, from any other time they’d hung out or just been in proximity with each other at the office? Well, apart from the hand job.

Fuck.

Gavin’s always been an annoying little British fuck, gets on Michael’s nerves, but also is the number one person to make him laugh. Gavin winds him up into a rage, but he can also bring him down again. There wasn’t much personal space left between them, after all their wrestling, and Michael had thought that was it. That there wasn’t anywhere further to go. Sure, they joked about their dicks, about touching butts, bumping uglies. But it was a fucking  _joke_.

Right?

The Lake looks the same as the previous two days. He feels like he could come back in ten years and it’d look exactly the same. It was almost timeless, the dead still smooth surface, and the picture perfect reflection of the surrounding landscape.

Michael sat down on the beach, and barely a second later his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, squinting at the screen. He’d forgotten his glasses, but he could make out the name and the message:  _Where are you my little Michael?_

He replies automatically, not even thinking about it, sending back one word:  _Lake_.

They could forget about it, pretend it never happened. Heck, just chuck a few jokes out about how Gavin loves dick and then brush it off. It’s not a big deal.

(He can’t help reliving it, the look in his eyes, the pressure that wasn’t weird but just right. Wonders if they’d had more time…)

Gavin surprises him, uncharacteristically quiet as he approaches, sitting down beside him.

“Did I startle you?” Gavin asks with a small laugh.

“No you didn’t fucking startle me.” Michael rolls his eyes. “You’re just as shitty a creeper in real life as in Minecraft.”

Gavin pokes out his tongue and starts making a low hissing noise, which makes Michael shoot a glare at him. Gavin murmurs a low ‘boom’ and chuckles.

“This place is the best!” he says with smile, looking out at the Lake. “I wish everything wasn’t so far away in America, then we could come here more often.”

Michael scoffs. “Just because England’s so small you’re all basically interbred.”

“Michael, don’t be mean.” Gavin pokes his arm.

He goes to shove Gavin, but he’s suddenly aware of every contact between them, and Gavin notices him hesitate.

“Are you okay?”

Michael frowns. “Is it… weird?” he asks finally.

“Is what weird?”

“You fucking- grabbing my junk last night. I mean, I know you were wasted but-”

“Do you think it’s weird?” Gavin isn’t looking at him.

“A bit.”

There’s a pause and Michael finds himself trying to explain in plain terms what’s spinning in his mind. “It’s just that- it’d be fine if it was just a joke, but Gavin, the way you looked-”

Gavin stood up abruptly. “I’m gonna have a swim.” He kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it on the sand, walking to the water.

Michael watches him, internally cursing. Gavin’s stopped just a few steps into the Lake, staring out, and he’s the cause of the only movement in the water, ripples spreading out from where he stands.

He makes a decision.

When he first steps into the water, Gavin’s shoulders hunch up and he starts talking. His voice is quick fire, babbling, like he’s just trying to fill the space while Michael wades out to him.

“-never actually got to go swimming much till I came here and I found it weird that everyone was so white. I mean, just because I expected with all the sun and heat that most of you’d be brown or at least tanned. Though, having a job playing video games inside a building five days a week makes sense-”

“Gavin.”

He breaks off and looks at him, smile dropping at the tone of Michael’s voice.

“Yep?” he asks quietly, jaw set.

Michael’s unsure of his own mind. He doesn’t know what he wants to happen. It feels like any wrong move and the small world he’s built up is going to come crashing down, though that’s stupid.

He’s got nothing to lose (he’s got everything to lose) and life will go on (this shouldn’t be so important) whether he takes the right path or not (can’t see where the path ends). He wants to be sure.

“Hold still.” He says quietly.

Gavin’s back is warm. His hair’s soft - but that’s not new, he’s ruffled his hair enough to know that – and he threads it in his fingers. He’s got to do this right.

He watches Gavin’s eyes close, waits until he can feel their lips touch before closing his own. Gavin ignores his warning before and his hands come up to rest on Michael’s shoulders, mimicking the light touch.

It’s so sweet. Barely there pressure, slow and careful, mouths moving, not daring to pull apart because that’ll be the end, somehow they both know it’s not likely that they’ll come back together. Yet there’s space between their bodies, water almost to their waists, only hands and mouths touching, and the sun on their skin.

 

It only lasts a few seconds.

 

\---

 

They didn’t speak as they walked back to the park. Each was lost in their thoughts, knowing the other was thinking about the same thing. They packed their bags, dropped the keys off at the reception desk with a note – the registrar was nowhere to be seen – and loaded into the car, Gavin in the driver’s seat first, like he promised. Along the dirt road, through the trees, out onto the highway, back to civilisation.

Michael was tempted to joke that this is the longest he’s ever known Gavin to go without talking, but he can’t speak himself.

When they’d broken apart at the Lake, when he’d looked at Gavin, the face looking back at him had been a blank, shut off.

And Michael had known he’d blown it.

 

\---

When they stopped to switch drivers, and Gavin filled up the car with petrol, Michael bought him an icecream from the service station.

It’s a small apology, but Gavin takes the cone with a smile and the first words Michael’s heard since that morning.

“Thanks, my little Michael.”

“No problem, Gav.” He replied, and turned the keys in the car, ready to drive.

They talked this time, but about games, about the barbeque, about RTX. Things that weren’t so complicated. Gavin joked, Michael laughed, and the time rewound, and they were speeding back to the way things were before the weekend.

It’s okay. Really.

 

\---

 

He was prepared to drop and run when he put the car into neutral on his street, but Gavin reached over across him – Michael inhales uncomfortably - and turned the engine off.

“Can I come in for a drink?” Gavin asked, cautiously.

Michael knew he was in for an awkward conversation, knew this was going to be a massive clusterfuck of things he  _doesn’t want to bring up_. He doesn’t do feelings. Gavin usually doesn’t either.

“Okay.”

He didn’t think Gavin should be given anything with alcohol – and neither should he, come to think of it - so after he dropped his bag on the couch he started up the coffee machine, and the kettle. There’s a box of teabags in his cupboard, on standby for whenever Gavin visits, and he thinks about how much they’re wrapped up in each other’s lives already.

This isn’t going to be easy.

Gavin was leaning against the kitchen counter when he turned, sombre expression across his face. His shoulders are hunched defensively, and Michael can’t help but think he’s never seen Gavin like this, not even when being threatened with violence if he happened to interrupt Michael during a Rage Quit. Michael waited, half-predicting what Gavin’s next words would be.

“I’m sorry.”

…What?

Gavin’s frowning, biting his lip gently, and holds up a hand when Michael opens his mouth to speak.

“Wait, just- this has taken a bit of time for me to put into words that’ll make sense.” He continued, dropping his hand and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about this as soon as- after, y’know, this morning, but it was a bit- anyway. Sorry. And sorry for molesting you too I suppose. You know I didn’t- well, I did, but I never meant…” he broke off with a frustrated sigh, fingers kneading his temples.

A long pause followed, and Michael desperately wanted to speak, to say that Gavin didn’t have to apologise, that  _he’s_  not sorry, but for once he’s prepared to wait for the Brit to explain his mind. He needs to know that they’ll be okay, that they can work this strangeness out.

“I don’t want everything to change.”

There it is. The terrible sting that he knew was coming hits him with those words. Goddamn it he does  _not_  want this. More, he doesn’t want it to show on his face. He doesn’t want pity.

Michael let out a breath, his chest tight, and rubbed his eyes. “Nothing has to change, Gavin, alright?” he said, exasperated. “We can forget about it.”

“No, no I don’t mean we forget it!” Gavin bursts out, staring at him intently, like he’s trying to make Michael read his mind, and he resists the temptation to laugh at the ridiculous expression. “I just said not  _everything_  has to change. Like, we can still be best buds, right?”

“Of course, idiot, that’s not-”

“But we can be more as well.”

Michael stared. Gavin had a determined look on his face, and when he continued, the words sounded almost like a challenge.

“Because I want you.”

  
 

The kettle’s boiling behind him; it clicks off and the sound subsides. Gavin’s eyes are roaming his face, desperately searching for something, for a hint. He takes a few steps closer.

“Michael, I want you. I want us to be friends, but I also want  _you_.” Gavin’s baring his heart; it’s plain on his face, in his voice.

He can’t speak. Can’t move.

He can’t…

“ _Fuck_.” He grates out and grabs Gavin’s face – stupid, dumb, moronic, perfect face – and crushes his lips to his and it’s wonderful, wonderful, and Gavin’s grabbed his shoulders too, fingers clutching and tugging and kissing him back just as fierce.

Michael can feel Gavin smiling into the kiss and they simultaneously break away, laughing in relief. Gavin’s face is flushed and Michael knows his must be too, as he just gazes at his friend.

His boy.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything earlier, you dick?” Michael chastises softly, still grinning.

Gavin leans his head against his. “Because I thought you were humouring me.” he replies thoughtfully. His fingers are idly tracing around his neck and collarbones and it sends shivers down Michael’s spine. “I was the one who started it all by not keeping my hands off you when I was pissed, and I thought maybe you were just trying to let me down easily.”

“Why on earth would you think that? I kissed you didn’t I? That’s like the fucking thirty-foot high neon mother of all signs.”

“I can never tell how you feel, Michael. You’re hard to read. It took me a while to figure out you didn’t actually hate me when you were angry.” Gavin bites his lip and fuck is that ever distracting. “You were so serious about it all this morning that I didn’t know what-”

“Gavin.” Michael runs his fingers up into Gavin’s hair, watching his eyelids flicker. “Listen very carefully. I _._ Fucking.  _Love_  you _._ ”

His eyes go wide, and there’s a seriously adorable smile spreading across his face at the words that Michael hadn’t thought would come so easily or so quickly to him. But he’s absolutely sure. It’s been a truth for a while now, sitting in the back of his mind everytime he found himself musing over Gavin. All it needed was a little nudge.

Gavin leans forward to kiss him, slow and soft, and Michael wraps his arms around his waist, holding him tightly. He could stand there forever, he thinks abruptly, just at that moment in time, perfectly happy. But then Gavin presses his body forward into Michael’s and his tongue traces his lips and he quickly gets other ideas.

Their clothes come off without another word, staggering through the apartment, and then they’re in Michael’s bedroom, on the bed, they can’t get close enough. The heat of skin on skin, messy open mouthed kisses trailing along necks and chests, hands grasping each other, and they’ve got their fingers laced, desperate to not let go. Gavin kisses him deeply, whispers into his mouth, a mantra of Michael’s name and praises and when he pulls back and says “I love you” against his cheek it feels like a shot of fire through his chest.

He wrenches Gavin’s face back up to kiss him again, whispers “Fuck I love you… you goddamn moron, I love you…”

Michael can feel Gavin grin against his mouth. He wants to memorise this, wants to relive it every goddamn night. The feeling of Gavin’s body against his, a smile on his lips, bright eyes and the soft, amazing way Gavin kisses him when he tells him he loves him.

He’ll tell him every day forever if he has to.

 


End file.
